


Nothing Close to What I Need

by ifinkufreaky



Series: Under the Coat [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-01-06 21:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18396449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: What's the harm in a little romance across enemy lines?Drabble and one-shot collection for self-inserts with my favorite guilty pleasure, Bobo del Rey. Some will be gender-unspecified, some pieces are female OC or Reader.





	1. Mr. Nice Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This idea was given to me by an anonymous person on Tumblr; I wrote it up without signifying gender so that everyone can enjoy

You’re still shaking, but it's over. The demon exited this world in a smoldering, blackening pile of body parts that are still turning into acrid dust at your feet.

Bobo del Rey, your unlikely hero, drops the improvised stake he used to dispatch the creature. It clatters into the pile of ash and you recoil from the thick cloud it dislodges. “You ok, Y/N?” He peers over at you with his head tilted at a crazy angle. There's something sly in his face, and you wonder why he bothered to ask.

“Since when did you care?” You've run afoul of Bobo a few times since you started helping out the Earp squad. You've never seen him anything but cocky and adversarial before this, the first moment where you’ve ended up on the same side.

“I saved you, didn't I?” Bobo replies, stepping closer. One of his thick black workboots crunches a bone fragment and you gulp. “You had a close call,” he says, and you can't tell if he's making fun of you or not. “I can see you shivering!”

Before you can say anything, Bobo shrugs off his giant fur coat and swings it around your shoulders. It smells like smoke and man-musk and you feel somehow tainted as soon as it touches you. You're enveloped before you can even protest. And it is warm, so warm. Bobo was right. You might be a little bit in shock. “Th-thanks.”

Bobo puts one hand on each of your shoulders, leaning his face in close to yours. “Anytime.” A charming smile is plastered across his face as he seeks your eyes; it’s only a little bit crooked.

You give him a shy smile back. You’ve always found Bobo attractive, and when he’s giving you this kind of attention, this close, with his smell all around you, it’s almost too much to bear.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” His hands slide down the sides of your body and it takes all your willpower not to react. You shake your head ‘no.’ Bobo tips his head to catch your eyes with another companionable grin. “That’s a relief.”

This is too strange.

“You still look pretty shaky,” Bobo continues, wiggling his open hand in the air. “My trailer’s not too far from here, if you want to lie down for a little while.”

The thought of laying in Bobo’s bed brings heat to your face, though you’re sure he can’t mean… “Why are you being so nice to me?” you blurt out.

“That’s a good question,” Wynonna asks from behind you. She must have dispatched the other demon,  and come back to check on you now that the job’s done.

You hear Waverly’s voice next. “Is Bobo doing his Mr. Nice Guy act again? Creepy.”

You turn to face the Earps. Bobo wraps his arm around you and lays his head against your shoulder, still bedecked in his fur. “Buzz off, ladies. You’re ruining the mood.”

You crane your neck to look at him, incredulous.

“What, can you blame me for trying to get a little thanks-you’re-my-hero sex?”

Now you’re just embarrassed. You slip yourself out of Bobo’s grip, and his coat. You step toward Wynonna and Wavery, carefully avoiding their eyes.

“The offer stands, Y/N,” Bobo’s voice rasps after you, deep and seductive. You glance back to see him throwing his fur back around his own shoulders with a flourish. He flashes a knowing grin when he catches you looking, and you think you see his hand do something lewd near his belt before closing the coat up again. “Come find me if you’re feeling grateful.”


	2. kiss on a dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the OC is a sometime associate of the Earps who finds herself at a bachelorette party held at Shorty’s… while it’s under Bobo’s management. Someone orders body shots and it all goes to hell

“I think the new owner is kind of hot.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Really, Delilah?” I was uncomfortable enough that her bachelorette party was still happening at Shorty’s, despite the recent change in management.

“Mm, yeah,” my other friend Joanie replied, sucking down on the straw in her Jack & Coke as she basically eye-fucked Bobo del Rey where he stood behind the bar. “Do we know anything about him?”

The rest of them had moved out of Purgatory after high school; everyone but me. Today they’d flown back in for Delilah’s bachelorette festivities. I still hadn’t understood why they wanted to have the party here. “He looks like bad news to me.” I knew a lot more than that about the revenant that had bought Shorty’s just to spite Wynonna Earp, but I wasn’t going to get into it with these bitches.  I hadn’t even revealed to them that I had started associating with the Earp girls at all. They wouldn’t get it.

Delilah bumped me with her elbow. “I thought you loved a bad boy.”

I twisted my lip, letting my eyes slide off the man with the wild mohawk and crazy smile. “What can I say, I’ve grown a little since high school.”

Delilah’s lips formed an exaggerated pout. “Not tonight, you haven’t. Tonight, we get crazy.”

Joanie made a loud whooping sound that drew more than a few eyes from around the establishment. “Hell yeah! Let’s get this party going. Delilah, I dare you to do a body shot off someone.”

The bachelorette grinned, her eyes already getting that smoldering look that always got the boys wrapped around her little finger. “Fuck yes. Let’s all do them.”

Joanie hopped up from our table and headed to the bar to order the drinks. She came back after only a minute, empty-handed. “He said he’d bring ‘em to us here.”

I hoped like crazy that “him” was the usual bartender, but tonight I had no such luck. Within just a few minutes, Bobo del Rey himself came sauntering over to the table, eyes flashing with mischief over a tray that included saltshakers, lime wedges, and four brimming shots of tequila. “Looks like you ladies are celebrating,” he said with a charming smile for Delilah, eyeing up her hot pink “bachelorette” sash, and crown covered in tiny, almost tasteful phalluses. “I wanted to come over and congratulate you personally. I’m the new owner.”

“So we heard,” Delilah simpered, placing her hand in his palm when he extended his long fingers toward her.

Bobo kissed her knuckles like an old-fashioned gentleman, causing everyone but me to erupt into giggles. I knew the cruelty that lay behind that smile. I knew the only reason he came over here was to fuck with me, personally.

He was standing between Delilah and I, and he passed the shots around so that he got to me last. He caught my eye with a smirk, but said nothing to indicate that he already knew me. There was one tequila shot left on the tray, and he lifted it into the air at the center of the table. “To the wildest night of your lives.”

I didn’t trust his smirk. I suddenly wondered how many of the patrons surrounding us were revenants, too.

Bobo set the glass down in front of himself. “This round is on the house. You ladies don’t mind if I join you for this drink?”

What could I say? Especially when my friends were so dumbly receptive, nodding eagerly at their luck with the free drinks.

Bobo handed a saltshaker to me, and kept the other for himself. I thought I saw him wink before he turned back to the bachelorette. “Now, darling, tell me your name.”

“Delilah.”

Bobo’s eyebrows jumped, but he did not make any of the obvious jokes about her namesake. “Will you be my partner, Delilah?” He wiggled the saltshaker at her, lifting a lime wedge in his other hand.

Delilah held out the bare skin of her arm for him, but he shook his head.

“You can do better than that.”

She bit her lip, playing coy, then tugged the neck of her shirt a little lower, offering him her chest.

Bobo’s eyes lit up, and he popped the rind-side of the lime into her mouth. “Hold that for me.” He leaned over her, but his eyes sought mine, making certain I was watching. He extended his tongue slowly, lasciviously, and licked a line right under her collarbone, looking only at me.

Delilah shivered, and Bobo tucked his arm around her. He tapped salt onto the wet line he had left, and then looked expectantly at the rest of us.

I guess Joanie and I were partners. I was too petrified under Bobo’s devilish stare to take the initiative; I didn’t even look at Joanie when she lifted my arm and licked the inside of my wrist.

I vaguely felt the salt sprinkle on my skin as I watched Bobo smirk. Joanie broke the hypnotism of his eyes when she traced the lime across my bottom lip.

I blinked at her, taken aback by the sensuousness of the gesture. She waggled her brows at me and then I remembered how much she liked to tease the boys with a little girl-on-girl action. Bobo del Rey was about to get way more of a show than I wanted to give him.

I bit my lip, tasting the sour juice.

“How’s that lime?” Joanie asked, her voice dropped seductively low. Before I could answer, she leaned in to taste it herself.

She nipped at my lip softly, and made a show of pulling our bodies closer together. When she drew away I could see she was locking eyes with Bobo, checking to see if that did anything for him.

I decided my best play now was just not to acknowledge him at all.

Joanie pressed the rind of the lime into my mouth so she could go for her grand finale. She licked the salt from my wrist with a sexy little growl, took her shot, and then squeezed juice from the lime between my lips without even removing it.

Delilah emitted a high-pitched little giggle; when I looked over Bobo’s tongue swiping salt off her chest was making her squirm. He knocked back his tequila like a champ and plucked the lime from Delilah’s mouth with a sharp snap of his teeth.

I could hear a nervous edge to my friend’s laughter. She may have said that Bobo was ‘kind of hot,’ but her instincts were kicking in now, weren’t they. Something in her knew that she was in the grasp of a predator. Delilah slid her stool closer to us. “I want some of that hot Joanie action too,” she said with an exaggerated pout. A great excuse to get away from him. I watched her do her body shot off Joanie’s boobs as my stomach quietly sank to the floor. She’d left Bobo del Rey to be my partner now?

“I guess that leaves you and me, sweet thing,” Bobo said. His voice vibrated the air above my ear. I twisted toward him to hide my flinch. Bobo was smirking and lifting the bottom of his black t-shirt.

My swift retort died on my tongue when I caught sight of what he was revealing. His abdomen was _chiseled._ The smooth, pale skin framed by fur coat and dark fabric was captivating, the bold lines of his hip bones leading my eye straight down to the dusting of hair that showed just above his low-slung belt. Fuck, Bobo del Rey _was_ kind of hot.

He thrust that tempting slice of exposed flesh toward me. “Your move.”

My throat was suddenly dry. Well, the tequila would take care of that. Joanie and Delilah made taunting little “oohs” of encouragement and there was no way out for me but through this experience. At least Bobo was not letting on to them that he already knew me, that we had a history of taking other kinds of shots at each other.

I leaned down toward his offered stomach, holding my breath and the saltshaker at the ready. I saw Bobo’s eyes shift around the bar as I dove in. Fuck, he just wanted to make sure his whole revenant crew was witnessing this: Wynonna Earp’s little buddy bending down over his crotch. My anger threw off my aim; though I had intended to half-ass this, my tongue landed hard against his skin just below his navel, and I licked a rough stripe that seemed much more eager than I had intended.

I salted him like I was warding off an evil spirit, but there was only amusement in Bobo’s hooded eyes as I straightened my back and grabbed my shot glass. Tequila could only make this better, right? I ducked my head back down as Joanie and Delilah whooped, and forgot to hold my breath this time.

The scent of man musk invaded my inhale, rich and enticing. Fuck this motherfucking demonic fucker. I licked as little as I could get away with, the dainty tip of my tongue picking up just a few salty grains, making sure I’d leave him feeling messy and uncomfortable. Then I recoiled and sucked down the sour liquor as gracefully as I could.

I don’t particularly enjoy tequila. It burned worse than I remembered, and my eyes flew open in search of the lime wedge.

Bobo was already holding it for me, perched between two fingers as he wiggled it in front of my face. I lunged for it, and he drew it back at the last minute so my teeth closed in empty air.

My eyes burned at him, as harsh as the liquor in my throat. Bobo teased me with the fruit, acting like he’d let me have it if I would just lean toward him again, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I grabbed my beer off the table instead, chugging the lukewarm remnants of the bottle and glaring.

Bobo grinned cheekily and bit into the lime himself. “You ladies enjoy your night,” he said as he took a step away. “Just holler if you need anything else.”

Delilah and I watched him retreat back behind the bar, flipping his giant coat with a flourish. “He’s cute, but he’s kind of a douche,” Delilah said when he was out of earshot.

Joanie shrugged, and started playing with Delilah’s hair. “He’s just negging us. When guys give you a hard time, it means they think you’re too hot for them. It’s a compliment.”

I rolled my eyes, but Delilah smiled like she agreed, like she liked that idea. “What did he taste like?” She asked me.

I furrowed my brow. When did this night become all about fucking Bobo del Rey? “I don’t know.” She looked skeptical, like I was holding back on the good shit. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Delilah pouted. I was starting to remember why I hadn’t been too broken up when these two moved out of Purgatory. They were fun, but they weren’t the most empathetic sort of friends. “Well then,” she said, a devilish smirk coming into her eye as she bent her head down to look at me through her lashes, “you’ll have to find out. For the next dare, I dare you to go kiss him.”

I blew out a soft exhale. Joanie leaned in against my resistance. “Don’t be a party pooper,” she chided.

“Fine. But not right now. Let me find a good moment.”

The longer I sat there and sipped my next drink, the more it felt like a chat with Bobo was going to be necessary, anyway. I had no idea how many of the bar patrons surrounding us were actually demonic revenants from hell, nor what kind of terrible things they might be thinking about getting up to with me and my attention-grabbing friends here. I could advise that we leave for another bar right now, but who knew if some of them might decide to follow?

I got up when I saw Bobo emerging from a back room, intercepting him on only slightly-shaky legs before he could return behind the bar. He smirked as he saw me coming, and I threw on a winning smile to make the villain curious enough to slow down and talk to me.

The music was loud. I had to put my mouth to his ear if I wanted to be heard; he drew me in close to his body with a hand at the small of my back. “I need you to promise me safe passage. For my friends tonight.” I waited for him to laugh at me, scoff, or something, but when he did not immediately react I kept going. “I know you’ve got a problem with Wynonna, but they’re not connected to any of it. They’re innocents.”

Bobo tipped his head down, getting right up in my face. He let his demon eyes flash. “We love innocents. Especially their screams.”

“Don’t you dare!” I retorted. “My best friend is celebrating her wedding tonight, and nothing is going to ruin that.”

Perhaps it was foolish to speak to our immortal enemy like a mother slapping a child’s hand. But I couldn’t back down on this, and I didn’t have much to bargain with. Bobo cracked a smile, like he enjoyed the unexpected. “I like you.”

“Well that’s good to hear, because… I do need one other thing from you.”

Bobo raised his silver-spotted eyebrow.

I became distinctly aware of the way he was leaning over me, the casual command emanating from his hand at my hip. Two of his fingers were above the line of my jeans, resting on my bare skin. “Don’t worry, it’s not really another favor. I mean you’ll probably like it.”

His face jumped in a bemused expression, and his index finger ran back and forth across my skin. “I'm intrigued.”

I still had to use every bargaining chip I had. “Promise safe passage, first.”

Bobo shook his head, an indulgent smile curving his lips. “Tell me.”

I released a burst of air. Worth a try. “They dared me to kiss you.”

His eyebrows shot up, a smug smile quick to follow as he leaned back and regarded me like a fancy dessert he had just been served. “Did they now.” His hands came to encircle my hips, and he rocked them side to side like he was trying to make me dance as he looked me up and down.

“Yep,” I replied, already feeling defeated as I watched Bobo check to see if Joanie and Delilah were watching.

Bobo’s voice rumbled low. “Then we’d better give them a good show.”

He lifted me up with that same grip on my hips, depositing my ass on the edge of the empty table nearby. He pushed in close, his thighs between my legs, before I could try and keep him at a greater distance.

His hands trapped the sides of my face, rings flashing. And then he paused, staring for a long moment into my eyes like we were lovers. I got a glimpse of depths in that gaze that I never expected Bobo del Rey to have.

“Can we just get this over with?” I blurted into his face. I refused to acknowledge the sudden ache between my thighs. It was only a visceral reaction to a masculine body so close to my own.

I expected him to be rough, or lewd. Instead, Bobo’s hands slid around the base of my skull, cradling my head before he brought it fractionally closer to his own. The contact of his lips was smooth, and his whiskers were softer than they looked.

His gentle fingers coaxed me closer, his lips melting against mine so sweet that I opened my mouth to him without thinking. His tongue teased across the tip of mine.

Tingles ran down my spine before he let me go.

He looked a little dreamy too, pulling back only just far enough to look me in the eye. “You like me too.”

I scrunched up my face, shaking his hands off my face. “No I don’t. It was just a dare.” I turned his head to the girls, who were silently cheering at me.

Bobo recaptured my gaze, looking unimpressed. “Sure you do. Nobody kisses someone they don't like, like that.”

I pushed him away and hopped down off the table, quick as I could. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing anything else in my eyes.

Bobo extended his arm like a bar as I turned away from him, catching me for one more comment before I could race back to my girls. “I’ll spread the word,” he said above my shoulder, “nobody is hunting tonight. Not at your table. But do us a favor?” I felt him lean in, speaking his next words so close that his beard tickled my ear. “Leave me out of any more of your little dares. Unless you’re ready to finish what you start.” He released his grip across my chest and slapped me hard on the ass, propelling me back toward my table.


	3. new cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous request from Tumblr: "Yo! Reader and Bobo are about to get down and dirty at her place but then Wynonna shows up, so the Bobo has to hide somewhere whilst Wynonna talks and reader is trying to subtly shoo her away without accidently outing the fact that her and Bobo are hooking up on the side. Thoughts?"

“Did you get a cat?” Wynonna asks.

“What?” You whip your head to follow her gaze through the doorway to your living room. 

“I just saw something furry go behind your couch. Beautiful color!” With a delighted grin on her face, Wynonna tries to follow it.

“Uhhhhh he’s not very friendly!” you blurt, grabbing her arm before she can pursue the “cat” behind the couch.

Wynonna looks down at your fingers digging into her forearm, arching her brows. 

“He’s not used to people yet. I don’t want you to scare him.”

“I just want to look at him,” Wynonna says, brushing you off and stepping past the couch.

She stops short, and you run up beside her as your stomach sinks.

Bobo del Rey is laying on on his back, his sprawled legs bent to try to fit himself behind your furniture. He lifts his head with a lazy smile, not embarrassed at all to be caught. “Meow?”


	4. pierced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Bobo discovering your nipples are pierced - inspired by @equalstrashflavoredtrash

You almost think you’re imagining at first, a sudden tug at your left nipple. It feels just like when your barbell piercing gets caught on something for a second, but when you look down, nothing is touching you. You’re just standing there, near Bobo Del Rey’s trailer at the center of the park, trying to look intimidating as you back up Wynonna and Dolls while they use their warrant to search for incriminating evidence.

Bobo got his ass pulled out of the trailer almost immediately, after running his foul mouth enough to piss Wynonna off. Now he’s waiting out here in the sun with you and a few other badges, sitting forward with his elbows resting on his knees and feigning boredom. But you see the fingers of his right hand tap-tap-tapping against his left. He’s antsy. Worked up about something. And hopefully, Black Badge was about to find it.

The strange sensation in your nipple repeats itself, this time on your right. You reach up and rub your fingers over your piercing, reassuring yourself that everything is normal. Bobo’s looking in your direction, so you drop your hand quickly. You don’t want to look like a freak, just feeling yourself up in public. Especially not while _he’s_ looking.

Bobo smiles. He’s smiled at you like this before; charming, like he knows some secrets he’d love to let you in on, if only you’d give him some of your time.

Arrogant bastard. You stand up straighter, cross your arms under your chest and do your best to look like a badass not worth fucking with. Sure, he managed to steal a kiss from you that one time, and your whole body still fizzes with pleasure when you remember the feel of being pressed up against him, but you are strong, and you are a Good Guy _,_ and you are not letting Bobo Del Rey compromise you again.

Another tingle at your nipples. This time both at once, and this time it lasts longer. It almost feels like the barbells are _spinning?_ But that makes no sense. You bite your lip and shift on your feet until the strange sensation passes.

 “Something bothering you, Deputy?” Bobo calls over. He’s about twenty feet away from your position; easy to keep an eye on but not close enough for comfortable conversation.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you retort. “You know, Bobo, things will go a lot easier if you tell us now, what you’ve got hidden in there.” You tip your shoulder at the trailer behind you. “Before we find it ourselves.”

“Nothing to find.” His tone is too smug. Maybe he already moved it, whatever it is that Wynonna thinks he has. “But I’ll take a moment and think. I do hear it always feels better to get a few things off your chest.”

He sits back, and at that exact moment another tugging comes at your nipples. Left, right, one, two, like someone has grasped the metal ball on the side of each one and flicked them in turn. It’s hard not to gasp; you turn away from Bobo and look at the ground so that you can focus solely on this bewildering sensation.

You lift your crossed arms high, pretending you’re cold but actually just trying to use the backs of your hands to soothe your nipples. So when that odd tickle comes again, you are able to feel that both metal bars really are _twisting,_ by themselves, underneath your clothes.

Mashing your arms against your tits can’t stop it from happening. If anything, it only makes the sensation feel stronger, and more maddeningly impossible.

When you look at Bobo at you there’s a wide smirk on his face. That. Bastard. Only just now do you remember what spooky revenant power he seems to have, the ability to move things with his mind. He tilts his head, gives you a lascivious look, and _tugs_ both bars evenly, straight out from your chest, with nothing but a flick of his fingers.

The intensity is absolutely perfect, stimulating you with only a hint of pain. Without even touching you, Bobo has created the exact sensation that was the reason you got these piercings in the first place. He can see the way your mouth falls open, the way heat rushes to your face.

He does it again.

You hear Dolls comes stomping down the rusty metal stair of the trailer at your back. “This the only trailer that’s yours?” your boss asks Bobo brusquely. “Maybe you’ve got a shed around back?”

Bobo spreads his hands wide. Your piercings come with the gesture, though he drops them before it hurts. “What you see is what you get, Deputy Marshall.”

“Is that so?” Dolls sounds skeptical, and frustrated. “Because if you’re lying to me, it would be a direct violation of—"

You stop paying attention to Dolls’ words as the tweaks come again, almost painful now. You swallow a moan, and can’t do anything about but stare at Bobo’s face and plead for mercy. Heat is pooling between your legs, and you really wish your boss wasn’t standing right next to you now.

Dolls is still talking, some angry rant by the sound of it, as Bobo tilts his head at you and makes your piercings fucking _vibrate_ while his eyes gleam. You’re not going be able to take much more of this; you grit your teeth and feel your legs getting weak under the teasing waves of restless pleasure tearing through your body as you stare back at that bastard.

Dolls’ voice raises in pitch, cutting through your staredown. “Are you even listening to me, Mr. Del Rey?” His eyes follow Bobo’s, finding you as their target.

“I apologize, Deputy Marshall,” Bobo says, voice dripping with false courtesy. He drops his mental hold on your piercings, though not without one final tug that makes you flinch and hug your arms tight over your chest. “It’s just that your deputy over there has the most captivating beauty. I just get lost in her eyes. As well as her other… assets.”

Dolls looks even angrier as Bobo’s eyes drop from your face down to your chest, licking his lips like a total horndog. “Watch it, Bobo,” your boss warns.

“She looks a little under the weather, actually,” Bobo continues. He flicks his hand wide, and you flinch at the gesture, expecting to feel another tug at your nipples. But it doesn’t come. “My trailer is open,” he says, and you realize he was just pointing at the door, “if she needs to lie down for a little while. Don’t worry, Deputy Marshall, I’ll take good care of her.”

Dolls actually growls at Bobo before turning to you and examining your face. There’s no way to hide your unsettlement, but he probably can’t interpret what flavor of torment Bobo is putting you through. “What did you do to her?” Dolls demands, whirling back to face the villain.

Bobo puts his empty hands up. “I haven’t touched her. Been sitting right over here the whole time.”

Dolls looks back at you. “Did he do something to you?”

There is no way in hell you are going to explain what’s going on right now, not with Bobo sitting there smugly, and not with armed revenants, and several more of your coworkers, watching the whole exchange closely. “No,” you reply, shaking your head bravely. Bobo can’t resist plucking at your nipples one more damned time, but you hold it together under Dolls’ level gaze. “I think I ate something bad. It might be about to catch up with me. Permission to go wait in the vehicle?”

Dolls’ eyes soften just a little in sympathy. “Granted. We’re finishing up here anyway.”

You nod at Dolls and move toward the exit.

Bobo thinks he’s so fucking funny. His grin ignites once more as he sets those barbells spinning, but now that all the attention is on you, you’re done giving him a reaction. The trailer park gate is just a few hundred yards behind Bobo’s head. You’re determined to keep your dignity until you make it there.

You walk right past the villain, refusing to skirt around him, needing to make it clear you’re not unnerved by him in any way.

When you get close, Bobo raises his hand like he wants you to stop and talk to him. “One last thing, Deputy.” You’re close enough to touch but he doesn’t grab you; that earns enough goodwill for you to actually stop. You’re mindful to keep a polite distance from his body, with so many eyes on you. But Bobo’s telekinetic fuckery yanks at the underwire in your bra, pulling you to bend over close so he can speak right into your ear.

“If you’re still wearing those cute, _convenient_ little things in your tits the next time you come down here, I’ll know that you like me.” You try to pull away, but your bra tugs you in closer. Bobo even dares to run a finger under your jaw as he purrs deeper into your ear, “And just imagine, if you were pierced a little further south…”

He lets you rush away then, followed by his throaty chuckle. You put your hand over your mouth so you can pretend that whatever he said only made you feel sick.


	5. pierced again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so someone twisted my arm and got me to write a follow-up to the last story, where the girl does indeed get a piercing in her nether regions before facing Bobo again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for penetrative sex with an implied lack of ability to withdraw consent, no condom use, and general "I'm going to regret this tomorrow" vibes

Dolls keeps looking over at you. He knows something is up, but he can’t put his finger on what. Bobo’s got you sweating, though he hasn’t said anything, or moved an inch from his position behind the bar at Shorty’s.

Your mission here, ostensibly, was for Bobo to be the one to sweat. Just a week after the revenant had reopened the bar as his own, Dolls thought it would be a good idea to stage a little “inspection” in partnership with the local PD. He didn’t really expect to find anything incriminating in the bar, though any inkling of what Bobo and his revenant crew might be up to would be a godsend. Mostly he just wanted to remind the rowdy gang that legit businesses come with legit oversight.

So now you, Dolls, and Officer Haught are running through Shorty’s with a fine-toothed comb, ignoring the menacing looks of the revenant “patrons” and the sullen glares of their trashy-looking human familiars as you work around their happy hour.

Bobo himself looks cool as a cucumber. Probably because he’s currently having his own fun, with you. He’d told you what would happen if you came back with your piercings still in. The remembered threat had made you shiver with anticipation even in the car on the way over.

Especially since, in the weeks since the last time Black Badge tried to shake down Bobo Del Rey, you’d done that other thing he’d suggested, too. Though you’d chickened out of getting your clitoral hood pierced, you were now sporting a cute little ring in your inner labia. It was something you had been thinking about doing anyway, you told yourself. Heading down to the shop two days after that incident in the trailer park was just a coincidence.

Whatever sense Bobo used to probe for metal latched on to you just about as soon as you had entered the bar. And now that Dolls is done talking to him, Bobo sure is taking his time and having his fun. As you sort through the bottles at the bar, searching for “contraband,” Bobo’s eyes are fixed on the struggle you seem to be having under your clothes. The metal in your tits twists and flits, the foreign object nestled between your lower lips wiggling more softly, seductively, positively dragging you toward the devil himself.

You come around to Bobo’s side of the bar, under the guise of continuing your search. In reality, you’ve made the move so your knees can buckle where no one else can see your face. You wanted to be teased again, but you didn’t think it would be like _this._ The ring through your smooth, slick little fold, so close to the entrance of your body, buzzes in sharp, teasing bursts, running some terrible, wonderful counter-rhythm to the staccato bursts tugging at your nipples. You gasp and let your face screw up against the intensity as you pretend to rummage through the bottles stored near the floor behind the bar.

You’ve landed closer to Bobo’s boots than you intended. Or maybe he moved in. Your eyes climb up his long leg to seek out the face looming above you. It’s about as blank as it was when you walked in, betraying only a mild sort of almost-interest. “Do you need some assistance down there, Deputy?”

Officer Haught’s voice cuts over the bar before you can get your panting under control long enough to attempt an answer. “You stay right where you are, Mr. Del Rey. Hands where I can see them.”

Bobo looks over at her and lifts just his fingertips from the bar counter, in that classic gesture of harmlessness. The vibrations against your most intimate parts intensify.

What you hadn’t expected was how deeply _unsatisfying_ this stirring sensation against your cunt was going to feel. To have Bobo Del Rey touching you there, metaphorically speaking, was so hot that it had your pussy gushing, sure, but so much stimulation so close to your entrance was only making your body feel _empty._ The craving for him to fill you up in some way, any way… that was what had you cowering on your knees beside him now.

You wonder how much of that shows in your face as you stare wordlessly up at the smirk that starts to pull at Bobo’s cheek.

You’re actually grateful when Dolls calls the search off fairly quickly. He had always meant for it to be a feint, anyway. Just ruining the peace of Bobo’s day. And there was no way you, personally, were going to get anything more satisfying out of the revenant boss in such a public venue.

That’s why, after exiting Shorty’s with the team, you part ways before even getting back into Dolls’ vehicle. “Is it alright if I take care of an errand or two here before meeting you back at the station, boss?”

Haught gives you a considering look over the top of her squad car when she hears that, but you can’t bring yourself to worry about her suspicions right now. Not when you’re body’s on fire with such a delicious need.

Dolls waves a hand in dismissal, then fires up his engine. You wait till both cars pull away before taking a few steps down the street.

You don’t feel like facing the leers and jeers of the revenant crew at your return into the bar. You make a sharp turn down the alley and let yourself in the back door.

You knew the place pretty well when it was under friendlier management. Storeroom’s on the left, office on the right, and if you keep going straight you’d be back in the main room with the bar.

Bobo meets you before you get there; you don’t know how he knew you’d be coming in this way and you don’t really care. All that matters is the blaze in his eyes as he fills up the hallway in front of you. “Back so soon, Deputy,” he teases, somehow still sounding deadly serious. “Did you forget something?”

You take an unconscious step back as he moves up on you; even if you’ve decided not to fight your attraction to him any longer, he’s still just that scary. The next step lands your back against the wall.

His nose almost brushes your cheek as he leans into your last bit of personal space. His voice comes out in the barest rumble. “Maybe there’s just one more question you’d like to ask me?”

You make a needy little sound into his ear, hoping he’ll get the idea and just ravish you already.

He pulls away instead, looking you up and down with a satisfied little calculation in his eye. “Why don’t we step into my office, Deputy. I’m sure we can sort some things out there.”

He guides you to the open door with a hand on the small of your back. A jolt runs through you and you realize that though your cunt and tits are still aching from overstimulation, this is the first time this man has, in actuality, touched you.

The office furniture is just about how Shorty left it: a battered, aging desk at the back end, a half-broken couch filling up the space under the line of frosted windows facing the alley. Gus had removed most of the decorations that had lent a personal touch to the space before she signed the place over to her mystery buyer. Which was just as well; you feel guilty enough about the choice you’re making without any reminders staring you in the face of whose memory you are more or less betraying by submitting to this demon.

And submit to him you are about to do. Bobo splays himself across the couch as you stand in the middle of the room waiting to see what’s going to happen next.

He gestures one hand languidly through the air. “Show me.”

You blink at him for a moment, hesitating.

“I can tell you put something delicious between your legs, just for me,” his fluttering fingers zero in on your nethers, “but I can’t see exactly where you placed it. Show me.”

_Fuuuuck._ A cool, nervous energy sizzles through you as you start to strip off your clothes for Bobo, leaving an erotic charge in its wake that has you shaking. Your shirt comes off, then you take a few steps backward until you hit the desk so you can set your duty weapon somewhere safe. You shake off your boots, then strip your pants and underwear down in one go.

Bobo’s eyes almost shimmer above haughty lips as he watches you move.

Naked but for a satiny push-up bra, your helplessness feels much more apparent than you expected. You don’t let it show, though, not under the weight of those dangerous eyes. You’re all in, now.

Keeping your eyes locked on the predator who seems ready to make you his dinner, you sit down on the edge of the desk and lift both feet off the ground. In your best impression of a burlesque dancer, you spread your knees wide and let Bobo see the pearl lodged in your depths.

He leans forward at the sight of it, and a moment later he’s on his feet, stalking toward you in two quick strides. Long, adorned fingers land on both your inner thighs, while his gaze remains riveted on the treasure between.

“Mmmm,” he rumbles, “yeah, that was never gonna get you off, was it kitten.” He walks the fingers of his left hand down your skin, then prods at the ring clinging just off the side of your opening there. “You needed to come back to me, and let me touch you for real, like this, didn’t you.” His fingertips curl against your leaking arousal and then dance up over your clitoris. “By now you’ve got to be just aching to let me fill you up.”

A throaty moan escapes your lips, your body tensing up at the direct contact.

He continues to rub you, but it’s soft, still just teasing. You lean into his hand and he chuckles darkly. “Want something?”

You realize you aren’t above begging him, though you hope it doesn’t have to come to that. “More,” you purr.

He brushes his thumb a little harder across your clit, the tips of his longer fingers tickling up and down your slit without pressing inside. He steps his body in closer, until his hips tempt you just behind his hand.

You look up at him and try a sexy little pout.

“Not until I see the rest.” Fingertips slide along the edge of your bra, then Bobo is pulling the cups down, scooping your tits out without removing the support underneath, so they’re held up and on display for him.

You both stare down at the reddened, aching hardness of your nipples, each framed by the little silver balls of your barbell piercings. “Did I overdo it a little, kitten?” he says in fake sympathy, then takes the sore tips of your breasts into his soothing mouth, one at a time. You shiver as his tongue slides over and around the already-overstimulated flesh. “Please, Bobo,” you hear yourself moan.

He lifts his head. “Please, what?”

Instead of answering you reach for his belt. The first time you have ever voluntarily touched him. He pulls in a deep breath through his nose and lets you. That restraint says more to you about his lust than anything else; he’s feeling the anticipation just as bad as you are. The thought sets your fingers to work in double time at the leather of his belt, the button and zipper underneath. You feel his breath coming harder on your face.

He doesn’t let you take his dick out for him, though. Strong hands arrest your own just as you’ve barely traced his length, gotten only an idea of his girth. He forces your arms up, and back, until you’re lying down across the top of the desk. He holds you like that with one hand while the other goes down to line himself up between your spread legs.

“Wait,” you gasp, body tensing as you remember. “Condom!”

Bobo shakes his head like you’re being cute. “Sweetheart, I’m dead.”

When your face doesn’t immediately relax, he continues.

“Revenants don’t catch diseases. And we’re only shooting blanks. Promise.”

Maybe in another time, another place, you might have been more skeptical, but you take the demon at his word when the thing you’ve been dreaming of is hovering just millimeters away from your soaking, needy cunt.

He smears his fat tip across your aching flesh. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

He just glares into your eyes, holding perfectly still.

Fuck it, he’s making you beg for it. You take a breath, biting your lip. He swells against you as his gaze flits down to catch that gesture, but then he moves no more. Fine. “I want you to fuck me, Bobo.”

“Yeah?” he growls, eagerness starting to crack him now. Fingers twitch in the hand holding your wrists down. “Tell me how you need it.”

“I need you to fill me up. Hard and fast. Fuck, Bobo, I need you to stop being a fucking tease and just—”

You lose all your words as his heavy thickness presses firmly inside you, igniting every needy little neuron that had been waiting what felt like hours for something to come along and touch you deep inside. If you weren’t already so wet it would have been painful, how he surges forward and buries himself balls-deep in one groaning thrust.

After a single, pleased little growl, Bobo starts snapping his hips, moving hard inside you at a depth that has you losing control over your noises just about right away.

It’s everything you had been craving. More, really. Pleasure like a white-hot burst scorches up from your core through the rest of your body, so intense you can’t decide if you want to pull away or press yourself against him tighter. You settle for just trying to relax in the midst of it, welcoming his assault and letting him burn out your senses in the most delicious way possible.

Eyes closed, you can almost see your orgasm building like a white supernova surrounded by dark.

“Uh uh,” Bobo chides, slapping your cheek to make you look at him in outrage, “you open your eyes. Look at who’s fucking you. There’s no getting away from this.”

Bobo’s eyes are savage, and filled with that masculine pride that says sex is a game for him to win and you to lose. It’s not a very progressive viewpoint, but you suppose that what’s left of his humanity is a relic of a nastier time and place. It’s wrong but something about it is overwhelmingly sexy too, and even a decision to try the submission he’s seeking on for size is enough to set off that explosion that’s been building between your thighs since you walked into his joint.

You try to keep your eyes open for him as you blow, but your vision fades out and you end up with no idea if you really succeeded. The pleasure is almost searing, almost painful, and you can feel your body clamp down on his cock harder than you’ve ever experienced before. Bobo lets out a guttural moan when he feels it, a sound that’s enough to make you peak again, and you’re all but screaming through your teeth when he pumps even harder, letting out his own release into you.

His fingers unclamp from your hands and bury themselves instead in your hair as he slumps on top of you, breathing heavily. All either one of you can do is pant, and twitch, for a good long while after that. Eventually his cock slides out of you, and you feel a mess immediately start to accumulate on the desk. The bliss is slow to fade.

“I should go,” you say after a while, because what else do you say, to the literal demon that you just let fuck you. He’s not gonna want to cuddle. You won’t be making plans for dinner.

Bobo’s smart mouth is apparently exhausted, because he doesn’t even try to say anything cute, just pushes up to his elbows and hovers over you, inspecting your face. His head drops and he nuzzles his rough cheek down against yours, like an animal leaving a scent-marking. “I’ll see you around, Deputy,” he rumbles into your ear, the low tone entirely inscrutable.

Then he tucks his cock back into his pants and strides directly out of the room, slowing only to close the office door politely behind him.


	6. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt regarding what Bobo's Valentine gift to the Reader would be

The sound of a gunshot outside is unmistakable, even though the windows of the Earp ranch are closed tight against the February chill. You, Nicole, and Waverly have been sitting around Wynonna on the couch all afternoon, clutching hot toddies, and pointedly not mentioning that it happens to be Valentine’s Day. She’s got a thing about that holiday, and has been known to end up in a regrettable one-night-stand if she finds herself alone.

You all jump up eagerly at the sound of the shot. A little action is definitely the distraction that Wynonna needs today. Maybe if this turns out to be nothing you’ll even take her out revenant hunting next.

Peacemaker is already in her hand as the rest of you scramble for the rifles and shotguns hidden around the rooms. Barely waiting for you to get in place with the Winchester and cover her, Wynonna throws open the door to see what the commotion was.

There’s something shiny, silver and red, laying just at the threshold of the Earp’s property, right under the head gate in the middle of the driveway leading up to the house. You don’t get a good look at it because you’re more interested in the very familiar tall, fur-clad figure walking slowly away from it down the road.

Peacemaker fires and Bobo raises a fist, middle finger pointing to the sky, without even looking back. The shot veers harmlessly wide.

Wynonna stalks down the driveway, holstering her weapon. “The fuck is this, Bobo?” she screams after him, but he only gives an enigmatic, shark-toothed grin over his shoulder without slowing his stride.

You and the other two girls rush down to see what Bobo has left. It’s a gift box, wrapped in silver paper with a big metallic red bow on top. Nicole bars her arm across your shoulder as you lunge for it, trying to make everyone stand back. “It could be a bomb,” she cautions, but Wynonna can’t help but kick it with the toe of her boot.

When it doesn’t explode, she scoops it up and heads for the house. “Too damn cold out here,” she mutters.

You chase after her, fearing you know all too well who the present is for.

The package ends up on the coffee table, the four of you gathered around with fresh drinks, peering at it. “We should take it the station, let Dolls analyze it,” Waverly cautions.

Wynonna produces a hunting knife and rips right through the ribbon and paper. Inside is a clothing box, black and nondescript. She lifts the lid to find a glittery, heart-shaped card on top of something wrapped delicately in pink tissue paper.

“What the fuck,” Nicole says under her breath.

Wynonna reads the card as your stomach sinks. “What the fuck,” she echoes, and throws it onto the table like something vile.

You snatch it up. The inside is entirely handwritten, the letters looping and elegant in an old-fashioned style.

_Roses are Red_  
_Violets are Blue_  
 _If my hands remember correctly, this should fit You._  
 _Can’t wait to see it on you next time._

Wynonna lifts a bright scarlet mess of straps and gold rivets from the tissue paper wrappings. She turns it this way and that, until the shape of an underwire and connected thong help the eye recognize what it really is.

“Um,” Nicole asks after taking the card from you, “who here has been fucking Bobo Del Rey?!”


	7. cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my friend was sad at work and this happened

A sharp rapping sound from the window startles you up from where you sat, hunched over your disappointing little lunch with your eyes glued to your phone.

A hand waves on the other side of the window, adorned with layered bracelets and a few heavy rings. It's holding a packet of Oreos, jiggling them in a rapid back-and-forth enticement.

A moment later a rugged face appears, pale eyes sparkling above a two-toned beard. “Special delivery.”

You usher Bobo Del Rey quickly in to the break room, then make grabby hands at the cookies.

He snatches then away, raising them up out of your reach. “They're only for good girls.”

He bends his face down and waits for his kiss.


	8. laundry day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crack prompt that I received reads as follows: "You will definitely run into Bobo at the laundromat. Sitting there, reading an old magazine, only in his underwear. XD"

You hit “start” on the last of the four dryers you’ve claimed at the local laundromat, and jet for the door. You have exactly forty-two minutes before the first machine completes its cycle, and you are _not_ spending that time waiting in this humid, noisy space with its ugly fluorescent lighting.

Usually, you’re able to time your excursion exactly, taking care of a few other errands around Purgatory before showing back up just in time to pop your fresh clothes from the first machine when it reaches completion. This time, however, there’s about a hundred people ahead of you in the grocery line, they don’t open up another lane, and you end up returning ten minutes behind schedule.

No big deal, you think to yourself, who steals laundry anyway?

You rush back over to the lane of dryers next to the far wall and stop in your tracks. There’s a man sitting in front of your four machines, and he is practically naked. You avert your eyes almost as soon as you take in a broad bare chest, tiny pink shorts, and one hairy foot crossed casually over a pale knee. He’s holding up a battered magazine in front of his face, so you’re hoping he hasn’t seen you. You don’t really want to deal with awkward eye contact.

Except… he’s in front of _your_ machines. You peek at the timers on top; they all have forty-some-odd minutes to go. So his clothes are in there. Which means yours are…

You look back toward the man. Two details you had missed earlier pop out at you at once: the chairs on either side of him are piled with your wrinkling clothing, and the top of the head peeking out above the magazine’s crumpled edges is sporting a very distinctive dark mohawk cut.

Shit shit shit. Bobo Del Rey has your clothes. A very _naked_ Bobo has your clothes. “What are you doing?” you blurt without thinking.

Bobo drops the magazine to his lap, fixing you with a dry stare. He points with his forehead at the dryers across from him.

Right. “Whyyyyyy are you naked?”

He indicates the dryers again. His handsome face is still blank, but you can sense the tension of amusement building behind it.

“You know, most people don’t wash everything they own all at once like that.”

His notched brow jumps. “That wouldn’t be very efficient.”

“But it would be more civilized.”

Bobo bares his teeth at you in a very un-civilized way.

You sigh, and point to the clothing piled all around him. “Those are mine.”

“Is that so.” He makes an exaggerated effort at examining the piles like he just noticed they are there, like he wasn’t the one that had just pulled everything from all four machines. He waggles his eyebrows at the lacey undies sticking out from the top.

Dear Lord in Heaven, Bobo’s hands have been on your panties. “It’s rude to touch other people’s stuff.”

“It’s rude to hog more than half the machines,” he leans forward, elbows on his knees, “and then not come back to take them out on time.” You try not to look at the way the posture makes his pecs swell.

You glower at him, but he’s got you on that point. You bend down and scoop up an armful of your clothes, still hot, and carry them over to the folding table in the corner. Sure, you could have shoved everything back into your bags and folded at home, but you’re stubborn. You don’t want to let someone like Bobo Del Rey make you change your usual routine.

Bobo doesn’t move an inch as you cross back and forth in front of him, not even when the back of your arm brushes against his as you gather up the pile closest to him. Your skin prickles, like just a touch has spread some kind of contagion. “Need help?” he asks dryly, an offer which you vehemently refused. He’s made you uncomfortable enough; now you just want him to leave you alone.

It’s strange, to share a laundromat with your nemesis. You find yourself sneaking glances back at him while you fold up your items. He’s just sitting there, peaceful as a housecat, enjoying his little magazine, in his underwear. Usually when you see him, you’re shooting at each other. The cognitive dissonance is giving you a headache.

Except… you look over your pile of shorts, then narrow your eyes as you inspect the dastardly villain more closely. He’s not sitting in his underwear. He’s sitting in _your_ underwear. Your pajama bottoms, that is. “Bobo!” you snarl through your teeth, before you can stop and think if yelling at the head boss revenant of the Ghost River Triangle is such a good idea.

He leans his head back, peering up at you disinterestedly from over his magazine.

“Are you wearing my shit?!”

A wide grin cracks his face, crinkling his eyes as he finally stands up. “I had to wear something while all mine’s being washed, didn’t I? To keep things _civilized._ And I just liked this little number so much,” he says, waving his fingers up and down in front of the tiny rectangle of satin that barely covers his hips. The sight of his bulge encased by the shiny fabric is not something that is going to leave your memory quickly. “Don’t you think they suit me?”

He turns as he says the last word, wiggling his butt to call attention to the words you knew are emblazoned in white calligraphy across the back: _Enemy of the State._ When you bought them, you thought it was edgy and funny. Now, the joy is ruined. You can’t unsee this. Ever.

You whip your head away and start folding faster. You just want to be out of here and away from him, now. You jump when he’s suddenly standing right at your shoulder. Bare feet make him sneaky. “I could give them back,” he offers, voice a low purr, his hips wiggling closer to you as his thumb dips beneath the waistband.

“Keep them!” Your voice is high with the panicked need to stop him before he strips completely in this public laundromat. Hell must have burned all the shame out of him, if he ever had any to begin with.

He just stands there, too close, chuckling darkly at your frantic movements as you shove everything into your laundry bags. Enough’s enough, you have to get out of there.

The creep just can’t stop. As you turn tail and rush away, he makes sure to get in the last word: “My thanks for the gift, Y/N. I’m happy to have something so silky and soft to remember you by, cradling my undercarriage.”


	9. at the mall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I received a variety of crack prompts for ways the Reader might encounter Bobo Del Rey at the local shopping mall, so I put them all together into one story. 
> 
> This one's rated T for stalking behaviors (it's not actually cute if someone acts like this, yo)

The first time you saw Bobo inside the shopping mall, you did a double take – no, a triple take – to confirm what you were seeing was really there. It looked like a scene out of a museum diorama, or a prehistoric recreation film: this big, hulking figure decked out in fur, bent over a pool of water with his arm immersed to the elbow. Only it wasn’t some shallow stream, it was the mall courtyard fountain, and he wasn’t fishing, he was scooping up the change people had thrown in to make wishes.

You wanted to laugh. You wanted to turn on your heels and run away from this dangerous revenant; you wanted to shout at him to get out of such a normal place, and crawl back to his creepy trailer park or one of the other disreputable locations you were used to seeing him. They bring kids here, for Chrissakes.

You didn’t do any of those things. Instead, you strode very deliberately toward him, and gave his lower back a shove hard enough to topple him face-first into the decorative pool.

As he flailed and splashed, you stared at your hands. Did you really just do that? Of all the men that you probably shouldn’t be provoking… When Bobo came up sputtering, you curled them into fists and pushed them deliberately down by your sides. Never show doubt in the face of something that could hurt you. He stood to his full height and ran his hands over his head, clearing it of water. His mohawk and fur both stuck up at odd angles, stiff and chunky with wetness. The sheen of moisture looked good on his face, though, as did the cling of his undershirt to the planes of his chest.

His eyes landed on you, certain after just a quick flick to the right and the left that there could be no other culprit.

Before he could say anything, you took a deep breath, and… stuck your tongue out at him.

Then you sprinted away.

 

Ever since then, what could only be described as a rivalry had sprung up between you two. The next weekend, you were sitting on a park bench, just starting to enjoy an ice cream cone, when it was snatched right out of your hand. You hadn’t seen Bobo coming up on the pavement behind you, and before you could even get any words out of your mouth he had shoved the whole top of your ice cream right between his lips. Backing away, maintaining eye contact, he took great big licks around all the edges for good measure. Then he just kept on walking.

“Did Bobo Del Rey just… steal your ice cream?” Wynonna asked, one hand shading her eyes against the sun as she watched the monster’s retreating back.

“Apparently.”

“Are we going after him?”

You gave a little shudder. “I don’t want it back. It’s got his cooties on it now.”

 

Today, you’re making your way through a department store where you entered the mall, hustling past the perfume counters to meet Waverly down at the food court. But a familiar, growling rasp of a voice catches your ears. “I’m looking for something… fruity, but not too sweet.”

Your head swivels to the right, and you see Bobo Del Rey, upper body draped over a glass case as he harasses a saleslady in the cologne department. His sleeve is pushed up to the elbow, and as you watch, he directs her to dab a sample directly onto his skin.

He raises his arm and takes a truly dramatic huff. His eyes roll up to the ceiling as he ponders. “Too much fruit,” he declares. “Do you have something less pineapple, more kiwi?”

You put your head down and try to make your way to the exit without him spotting you. You pass by through another aisle, but you can still hear him. “I want something dark, and bright. A scent with a rugged sophistication, you know?”

You suppress a snort. Does he realize he’s using entirely contradictory words? That poor saleswoman.

Bobo’s voice raises. “Y/N,” he calls out to your back, “just the person I need.” Shit. “Come over here and help me decide on these.”

Is this really your life right now? Cologne shopping with Bobo Del Rey. But the truth is, you’re too amused to walk away.

The counter beside Bobo’s outstretched arm is lined with sample bottles. Evidently he’s been here a while. The clerk’s sales smile is cracking around the edges as she looks up at you; she’s clearly hoping you’ll just take this guy away from her. She deposits a dab of something from a dark green bottle on his upturned wrist. “Why don’t we try this one.”

Bobo sniffs it while watching your approach. “Mysterious, yet familiar,” he declares. “I like it.” He splashes the green bottle against the right side of his neck. Then he selects another flask, of an ochre-gold shade, and sprays that one on the left. “Y/N,” he says, extending one hand to beckon you nearer. “Give these two a whiff.”

You try to pick up the green bottle and smell it that way, but Bobo stops you with a long-fingered hand covering your own.

“You can’t truly tell, like that. It has to be on the skin.” He pulls the collar of his coat back a little, baring more of his neck to you.

You hesitate; Bobo arches a brow. You imagine he looks disappointed in your lack of bravery. That thought is enough to propel you entirely into his personal space. Your hands land on either lapel of his coat, palms tingling at the texture of the thick fur.

You get so close that your nose accidentally brushes the side of his neck. You’re sure you’re imagining it, but the air this near to his skin feels electrified. Your nerve endings sizzle as you realize you are close enough to hear him breathe. His hands are hovering somewhere near the sides of your body and you wonder if he’s going to touch you.

Inhale. That's all you need to do.

The first scent leads with citrus and the breezy chemical smell of artificial perfumes. Underneath that is something musky that must be all Bobo. It makes the back of your neck prickle.

Refraining from showing any reaction, you shift your head quickly to the other side, refusing any sort of eye contact until this trial is over with. The other side is cloying, based in heavier oils, and only enhances that masculine smell of him that you caught on the other side. While you wouldn’t necessarily call Bobo’s body odor pleasant, you have an almost irresistible urge to smell him again anyway; deeper, closer.

 “So,” Bobo crows at you, voice low and intimate, “which one tickles your fancy?”

Your smart mouth is quick to hide your true feelings. “When was the last time you bathed?” you ask, recoiling from him while you crinkle your nose. Interesting things happen when your brain goes on autopilot, and you're realizing that they usually involve poking the beast. “No cologne in the world could fix your smell.”

Bobo… pouts. There's really no other word for the sullen disappointment that spreads across his features. “You’re no fun.”

You step backwards, keeping your spine straight as you retreat from him without turning away. “I don’t know why you thought I would be.”

Bobo only tips his head to the side. “I think a lot of things about you.”

Now there’s a concept you really don’t want to have to deal with. After an apologetic glance at the saleswoman you’re abandoning, you hightail it out of there to go find Waverly.

 

You’re not _sure_ Bobo Del Rey is following you around the mall… but you’re pretty sure he’s been following you. That distinctive mohawk, the flash of furry shoulders, they don’t blend in well.

He swoops in while you’re waiting for Waverly to come out of a fitting room. He steps in close and nods his head down at the paper coffee cup clasped in your hand. “What have you got in there, Pumpkin Spice Latte?” His voice is wry. He thinks he’s making fun of you.

You raise one eyebrow, looking the wild revenant up and down. “Do you even know about pumpkin spice?”

He huffs. “I know only ‘basic bitches’ drink it, and I bet you’re just that unoriginal.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip. It is in fact a pumpkin spice latte, and it is delicious. “So what’s happening here, are you following me now?”

Bobo takes a step back, so he’s standing beside you, surveying the rest of the store. “Just hanging out.” He leans in, obviously reading the sign on the nearest rack. “I love Forever 21.”

And while you’re thinking of your best comeback, he plucks your coffee from your hand and steals a sip. “Damn,” he sputters as he pulls the cup away from his lips, “that _is_ good!”

“Keep it,” you growl, and spin on your heel. “Waverly! You almost done yet?”

 

After that you seem to lose your little tail. There’s no sight of Bobo for so long that after Waverly has to leave, you decide it’s fine to stay at the mall a little longer, and hit up just one more store without her.

You realize your miscalculation once you’re in the fitting room of that boutique.

“I’m her boyfriend,” you hear a low, raspy voice say outside. You know that you now have exactly three seconds to get decent; there’s only one possible thing Bobo is about to do. You pull the dress down over your head violently, straightening it over your curves, knowing you don’t have time to wrestle with the zipper.

The curtain behind you slides open with a scrape of metallic rings. No security at all in the changing rooms of this trendy shop. Bobo leers in at you with a tilt of his head. “Hello there, darlin’.”

“Seriously?”

Bobo nods to you, like he thinks this is very serious. His eyes flit to the mirror, and he looks your body up and down.

“You should get that dress. Flatters your shoulders.”

You look at yourself in the mirror, shocked he would even notice something like that. The dress does look pretty good. Dramatic. But you’re distracted from your own image by the reflection of Bobo Del Rey behind you, gazing from above your shoulder, his imposing presence filling up the entire background. The look in his eyes isn’t creepy, not in an uncomfortable way. Smoldering. That might be the word for it. You imagine for just a second that he really is your boyfriend, and he really does like you in that dress.

He looks over his shoulder at someone. “Pardon me,” he says, and steps out of another customer’s way by pushing all of the way into your tiny changing booth. He slides the curtain shut behind him.

“What are you doing,” you ask.

“Being polite,” he replies. “Not a lot of room out there.”

“Not a lot of room in here!”

“Oh, we can manage,” he says, eyes roaming along the tight walls.

Somehow your face starts burning, even though you’ve barely processed the implications of those words.

He looks down at the dress you’re wearing, having to pull his head back to get a good look now that you’re standing so close together. “So, are you getting it?”

You run your hand along your waist, pushing the fabric into place. “I haven’t zipped it yet, so I don’t know if it fits.”

“Allow me.” His fingers brush against the small of your back, finding the edge of the closure. You turn around to give him better access. Why are you going with this? Must not be wanting to make a scene throwing him out, that’s all.

You feel Bobo gather the edges of the dress together along your back, then draw the zipper up, slowly and carefully. His knuckle brushes your skin the whole way up, and you suppress a shiver. There’s no resistance. The dress fits.

Bobo takes a half step back, far enough to admire you, far enough for you to see yourself clearly in the mirror. The shape it gives you is phenomenal.

“Wear it tonight,” Bobo says, softly.

You whip your head to meet his eyes. “Tonight?”

He nods his head, and his hands find yours. He brings the back of one to his lips in a very old-fashioned kiss. “Dinner. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you try to stay firm. “Why would I go out with you?”

“Come on, Y/N, you've been flirting with me for weeks.”  Is that what you’d been doing? “Following me around the mall…”

That’s not right. “You're the one that's been stalking me!”

Bobo makes a skeptical face, cocking his head to one side.

“You literally barged in on me in the dressing room. What do you call that?”

“Helping. I’ve noticed you have a very hard time deciding what to buy.” He looks down at your chest, showcased just exactly no more nor no less than you prefer. “That. You should definitely buy that.”

You shift awkwardly. “But I haven't even tried any of the other ones.”

Bobo’s eyes light up. He spreads his hands in a “go ahead” gesture.

You roll your eyes. “No. Out.”

He lets you push him back through the privacy curtain. You ignore how warm his chest is under your hand.

“Oh,” he says, ducking his head back in, “which one do you like for tonight?” His hand disappears under his coat, then come back out with two bottles of cologne that he clearly stole from the tester tray.


End file.
